Borrowed a vintage pencil
From a neighbor cross the hall
Broke the last piece of lead
Can’t bear to take the fall
So revived this poem as a playful apology
It’s a pen’s perspective on human ontology
And perhaps my way out of this mess
An overdressed
Ineffaceable addition
To a meta-satirical anthology:
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Are we Pencils or are we Pens?From a neighbor cross the hall
Broke the last piece of lead
Can’t bear to take the fall
So revived this poem as a playful apology
It’s a pen’s perspective on human ontology
And perhaps my way out of this mess
An overdressed
Ineffaceable addition
To a meta-satirical anthology:
-----
When we make mistakes can we make amends?
A pencil evokes a magical spell
If you write incorrectly, mess up, or misspell,
Simply erase and no one can tell
A pen, conversely, displays every streak it creates,
Instead of vanishing from sight,
It proclaims its mistakes
Augmenting faults like a magnifying lens
Drawing attention like the gong of Big Ben
So are we pencils or are we pens?
The lead of a pencil
The ink from a pen
Our fates intertwine
We don’t always know when
As human beings we may regret certain actions
But these make us who we are, what’s the need for subtraction?
Our lives are molded by more than our successes
And our personalities?
They thrive on our most terrible messes
Just as a pen’s errant mark remains
Life’s present carries our toils and our pains
We may try to neglect our past,
But it persists until we pass
Paper is life,
ink is our soul
pen is our body,
eraser our foil.
Unlike a pencil,
There’s no life lead to replace,
Just one ink cartridge
And no time to waste
So as students and teachers
As women and men,
Let us embrace both flaws and strengths,
Our identity as Pen.